The Hellhound

No Way Out

I don't know what I'd been expecting to happen once we left. Surely, I'd convinced myself that there should be something, right? Chaos, screaming, traffic, sirens...some sign of life. But the further through the wasteland we trekked, the quieter and darker it got until we'd been swallowed whole by the lingering smoke. The only sounds around us were that of our own footsteps as we stumbled blindly through what had once been familiar terrain.

At first, we'd done what any logical person would do in a normal situation; returned to the parking lot. But this situation had been far from normal. It had been so far from anything truly tangible that had this been another day or another time, I could've laughed at the absurdity of it all.

The end of the world, in this day of age?

But I didn't laugh. Not when we'd come to a stop at the edge of the blacktop, only to find it littered with glass and ash.

I didn't laugh when we found a tree, uprooted and thrown across the parking lot.

Or when we found the crushed body of Mira's red Pontiac pinned beneath its massive limbs.

The City was off-limits. We'd known that from the start. But once we'd found ourselves faced with the very real - and wretched - reminder, it only seemed to serve a far more dreaded purpose. What now?

And so we walked, stumbling blindly across the parking lot and beyond. We staggered for hours, tripping over buried debris and cracked roads. Stumbled over exhausted limbs and through thick smoke. Suffocated in tense silence and swallowed whatever words may have come to mind.

Because maybe, just maybe, following the road would lead us to somewhere.

But as another hour passed, all we found were more desolate roads, forgotten to seemingly everyone. Gray ash coated the pavement, like a dusting of fresh snow. But we knew better. The sun still had yet to peek through the thick clouds, and the world only seemed to be growing colder with every passing minute.

My legs ached, my ankle throbbing something awful and what felt like a hatchet hammering away in my skull. Every limping step forward was closer to something. It had to be. Though I didn't find myself surprised when the figure walking beside me had come to a halt. I turned, glancing over my shoulder and expecting it to be Sage who'd stopped. Instead, I'd found Mira, about five feet behind the two of us. Sage's brows were knitted together, her fingers still curled tightly around mine.

"Mira-?'

"What's the point?" The question came out as a huff through the redhead's lips. Her eyes were narrowed at the ground as she kicked a stone. It skidded across the pavement before rolling off into a ditch. Her foot fell back to the road, kicking up a small cloud of gray that lingered as a haze around her ankles. "Keep walking? And-and for what?"

Another question I couldn't answer. And seemingly, I didn't have to. Sage took another step forward, her hand slipping from mine as she eased up to Mira's side. Her jaw hung slack, lips parted and eyes searching the girl helplessly. Empty promises hung in the air of her silence and I sighed.

Just beyond the ditch where Mira had kicked the rock was a house that had seen better days. It had clearly been abandoned since before the bombs; maybe even since before the war itself. It appeared structurally unsound, but there were no other options and with the bitter wind licking at my cheeks, the decision was becoming clear.

"We're not going to figure anything out by hanging around in the cold," I finally spoke up, willing myself to move closer to the two.

"You're looking for the coziest place to die, right?" Mira bit out. Her tone was ice, matching the bitter air that swirled around us. Green eyes narrowed even further as she caged her arms tightly around herself. "I know you're thinking it."